


Big Guns

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Fastlane
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-24
Updated: 2004-06-24
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:41:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Sweet post-coital musings





	Big Guns

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

"You good?" Van panted.

 

"You have to ask?" Deaq opened one eye reluctantly and looked down at Van's pale cheek pressed against his belly. The gray-blue light from the television muted Van's eyes to a dark, aquatic green. 

 

"I like to hear it from you. Helps me hone my technique."

 

"Van, afterglow? Familiar with the idea? Quit yapping at me like some nervous prom date." But Deaq combed a hand through Van's sweat-soaked hair gently, brushing away the sting of his words.

 

"Mystery man."

 

"No, I'm not. I'm the original what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. I'm an open book."

 

Van smirked and said, "Insert your own 'reading in bed' joke here." Van slid up and executed an unmistakable snuggle on Deaq's shoulder. "I have a question. Not sex-related."

 

"Mmmmmm, OK, fine. Lay it on me." Deaq spoke with his eyes closed. He hitched over an inch on the sofa. Between the afterglow, Van's little caresses and the drone of the TV, Deaq was headed on the express train to dreamland.

 

"Why do you carry such a big gun?"

 

Deaq blinked his eyes open. "What?" 

 

Van sighed and leaned up so his chin was on Deaq's collarbone. "Why. Do. You. Carry. That. Big. Gun?"

 

"Is this some kind of lewd commentary on my...endowments?" Deaq leered weakly. 

 

Van rolled his eyes and grinned. "No, but it is kind of the reason I'm asking now. Most guys who favor the heavy artillery are obviously...overcompensating." At Deaq's raised eyebrows, Van continued hastily. "Hey, cops, locker rooms, communal showers, why are you always giving me the you're-such-a-slut look?"

 

"Because you're such a slut," Deaq couldn't resist. He grabbed Van's stiffening shoulders and sucked on the pout that was forming on his partner's mouth. "My slut." Deaq kissed away Van's momentary pique.

 

After a few moments of Deaq's best efforts, Van seemed to lose his handle on the discussion. When he paused for air, Deaq asked gently, "So you have a problem with my gun?"

 

"Wha--? Oh, uh, no, not a problem. I just always suspected that it was different with you and now..." Van squeezed Deaq's dick gently through his damp boxers. "I know for certain. So what's the story?"

 

"Why does there have to be a story?" Deaq hedged.

 

Van leaned back and freed one hand so he could tick off the stats on his fingers. "Most cops carry the standard 9mm, brand depending on which dealer got the contract. They're light, they rarely jam and they have an accurate range of about 100-150 meters. "

 

"Now, the Desert Eagle .50 is an Israeli-manufactured, gas operated, magnum-caliber semi-automatic, single action pistol. Originally conceived for hunting big game." Van winked at Deaq and continued. "Accurate range is estimated to be a bit over half a mile. It weighs four pounds, unloaded. Loaded with its standard calibers, it can punch through a class-two bulletproof vest. Guy's not wearing a vest, it can blow right through him and the wall behind him and the wall behind that one. The muzzle flash makes it look like a flamethrower. And to top it off: you carry not one of these killing machines but two." Van drew a question mark in the air. "It just seems like...overkill. So what's the story?"

 

Deaq sighed. Van was relentless. He didn't really want to go into this, but...they'd already had sex, they might as well have intimacy.

 

"Van, have you ever heard the Spanish proverb that a reputation is a valuable thing because it sheds less blood?"

 

Van shook his head and waited silently for him to continue. Deaq paused because it was kind of ...eerie. Van Ray completely quiet and still for one moment.

 

"You remember the first time that anyone ever took a shot at you, Van?" 

 

Van looked at him, disbelievingly. "Not as if I'm likely to forget. It made an impression."

 

Deaq paused and let the feeling thrum through him. "So you remember the first time, you probably remember the last time, too. And all the times in between. You see that open barrel, you hear the crack and you can't see it, but you know death is coming."

 

"And then, having to do it yourself. You move your finger and suddenly someone has a hole in them. Bones splintered, arteries spurting, muscles and organs torn in two. On either side, it's not fun."

 

Van was silent and he blinked for a long moment. Deaq continued.

 

"The first time it happened to me was on patrol in New York, some 18-year-old punk knocking over a bodega got spooked and took out the manager. Could just as easily have been me five years before that. So I'm trying to make it clean. I've got him penned in, nowhere to go, I'm trying to take him down easy and it just all goes to hell. I mean, I'm standing there. I'm wearing a uniform, holding a gun, yelling at him to freeze, get down, put it down, what have you. And this kid still turns and goes all Jesse James on me. So I shot him twice." Deaq looked at the brightness of the TV, not seeing it. "He twisted as he fell and the second shot ripped his liver apart. They put me on that administrative leave and I was so grateful for it. I was so full of...so enraged that I could barely move. So angry. I mean, what, he didn't think I was serious? He thought that it was some video game? I never understood why and probably never will."

 

Van squeezed his shoulder gently and Deaq collected his thoughts. "That's when I started to think about it. Some neighborhoods hear so much gunfire that eventually it doesn't really register anymore. Between the news and the shows, we see all this stuff so much on TV, that we don't look at guns in the right way anymore. A gun's just a prop now. It's expected."

 

"A couple of years after that shit went down, I was partnered with this old grizzly bear, Gibbons. He was old school, but he taught me a lot of stuff that's kept me from dying. We had these two dealers locked down in this crackhouse once and back-up just wasn't coming for some reason. They're inside, screaming that we're soon gonna be deader than Tupac but Gibbons just reaches into the trunk and grabs a shotgun. He's walking up to the door and he racks a round. And all of a sudden, there's quiet. Everything stops for a second. And then one of the dealers yells, 'We're coming out! Don't shoot!' And they filed out like Mary's little lamb."

 

"Later, I asked him about it and he talked about what I'd been thinking: that we've stopped paying attention to our guns. Gibbons said that sometimes, if perps could hear the gun speak, the gun would remind them that it wasn't a game. The gun would tell them about pain and death before it showed them. He also said that some guns spoke louder than others."

 

"That's why I took those Desert Eagles when we busted that Russian dealer." Deaq said. "Our next case was that prick Harkins, that pimp, remember? I drew down on him while you were taking care of his bodyguards. And that's when I knew I had the right idea. When that junkyard dog actually stopped and...reconsidered before squeezing off a shot at me. We took him in clean."

 

Van was nodding like it hadn't occurred to him before.

 

"Van, have you ever been on the wrong side of a Desert Eagle?"

 

"No."

 

"Well, maybe you should look sometime. Look and I guarantee you'll think twice." Deaq sighed.

 

"That's why I carry it, Van. Because I'd just rather not ever fire it at all."

 

Van's eyes glowed in the faint light and he executed another surreptitious snuggle. "That's what I thought, dude. And that's one of the things I love about you."

 

Deaq took that in silently, tilting his head to regard his partner. Van's eyes were closed, his face was relaxed enough to make him look nearly angelic in a scruffy way. Trust and love were etched into every line of his long form. Deaq felt some of his edgy sadness ebb away. Deaq shifted a little so that Van could nestle beside him more comfortably.

 

The feelings that swirled through him: those were the real big guns.

 

-End


End file.
